


Disease

by Soul4Sale



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Qunlat employed, Qunmance, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 08:39:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3563267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soul4Sale/pseuds/Soul4Sale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ashaad was always right. His death proves this more than anything to Saemus Dumar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disease

**Author's Note:**

> A prompt kindly given to me by Myr-Mythic of Deviantart.

“Kaarkahl,” Ashaad began softly, “Is a festering disease.” 

The words seemed to come out of nowhere, making the inky-locked male turn his head and regard his quiet lover with a confused, semi-concerned look.

“What?”

“In the Qun, every being is a part of the body of the People.” The Giant told him, those striking violet eyes turned out at the sickly looking sea before them, “I have been on many missions to secure more converts, and never have I ever seen a place as lawless and chaotic as this… _City_.” Saemus was sure he’d never heard any word out of the other’s mouth drip with more venom. Finally, the Qunari turned his head just enough to see those eyes, more blue than any sky Kirkwall could ever offer, and his face twitched with just enough expression that Saemus figured he was truly upset. “To enforce a path without purpose on one so willing to seek it… It is a waste.” 

That was, no doubt, a jab at his father. In all the time the Dumar heir had spoken to Ashaad, he had made mention of the Viscount enough to ingrain more than apathy and pity in the giant, and it was likely he felt as much anger over his actions as Saemus. If not, he definitely _had_ struck a chord. 

“ _Kadan_ ,” Saemus began softly, a hand working up a silver bicep, currently free of the poisonous paint usually donning it, “I’ve told you… As soon as I can, I’m going to leave Kirkwall behind. We won’t have to run to the Coast just to be together, and I will join you in the Qun.”

“You romanticize it too much.” Came the curt response, and that heavy head shook slowly, the long, blindingly pale locks springing from it shifting slightly with the movement. After a moment, however, his lip quirked just so to give the illusion of a smile to most; to Saemus, however, it was a fond look, the kind that showed both good humor and compassion. “The Qun does not permit frivolous things. You know this. We would be sent to Par Vollen to be re-educated.” The soft rumble of a chuckle deep in his chest had the smaller male shifting from the smooth rock he sat on to settle in the elder’s lap.

“Nobody else would have to know. They certainly don’t, now, and if they were given no reason to ask, they wouldn’t.” Sometimes, the way that his little Kadan pinpointed small loopholes in the Qun disturbed Ashaad. This time, he just uttered another little chuckle and rest his chin on that wild shock of dark hair. 

“You are… Loud.” He offered softly, shaking his head again, ruffling the unruly locks with his chin. 

Unbidden footsteps had the Qunari suddenly straightening, a large arm wrapping around the smaller male’s chest, holding him tight as he turned.

“Ugh, I expected something like this, but the sight is just as disturbing as the thought.” Came the disgusted words from Ginnis as she placed both hands on her hips. “Who knew the rumors were _true_ for once, you little shit. Come here. Now.” The sneer on her lips was enough to repulse both men, and in less time than it took for Saemus to gasp out a small breath, he was on the rock he’d been seated on earlier. His towering giant rose to his full height, an intimidating stance applied immediately. It was too late that he realized he was weaponless, as they typically weren’t bothered out here, nobody ever came out to the Wounded Coast for a walk. Well, nobody other than an unlucky Qunari scout and the Viscount’s son, it seemed.

“N-no…” Where had all of his eloquent words gone? His mind seemed lost in panic as the woman dressed head to toe in blades and bad intentions just smirked.

“You want to do this the hard way? Fine. It’ll be more gratifying if we kill him and take your father’s coin.” And with a simple snap of her fingers, a good portion of the Winters’ forces appeared out of nowhere, descending upon Ashaad like a murder of Quillback on a mouse. One or two would have been no problem, armed to the teeth or no, but so many, and with no weapon, or even his Vitaar to protect him, well… It was easy enough to slay the beast of a man with a poison-laced blade sliding across his throat. Of course, the Winters never did anything that couldn’t be described as ‘overkill’, leaving more than their fair share of wounds on the body of the only person in Saemus Dumar’s life who had understood him. Or, at least, tried to.

Falling to his knees in the fine, glittering sand, he tossed one final look at the young man he’d wanted so desperately to help. There were tears clouding those usually clear eyes, and he figured that, in his last moments, he could offer some sense of closure. A small smile drew his lips up slightly, and he managed to gurgle something that sounded like ‘Kadan’, one final time.

Tipping forward, his body fell, lifeless and limp as a puppet with its strings severed, the Qunari lay impossibly still as Saemus’ anguished cry lit the small outcropping. His flurry of steps was hidden beneath the raucous laughter of the cold hearted woman striding toward him.

“I’ll never understand what you see in these things. They’re so damn _ugly_.” How could she say such a thing? And laugh about it? It was like rubbing salt in the wound. 

“ _Asit tal-eb. Ataash varin kata._.” The words left him before he could stop them, the tears pouring down his cheeks an unstoppable force, as he curled over his _He’s so cold…_ previously living heart’s body. With less effort than it had ever taken, he rolled the horned man’s body so that he could see his face, those eyes that had twinkles when he said something amusing staring, unseeing, at him. Choking on his sorrows, the potential convert slid his index fingers over those pale eyelids, closing them for the last time.

“What’s going on here?” The voice caught him off-guard, and he looked up suddenly, wiping snot and tears from his face. He’d seen that man in his father’s office on several occasions; Ethan Hawke. Numb and unblinking, he watched as the group pulled close like the tide, and Ginnis smarted off again. While he spoke and watched the ensuing battle, even the sounds of blades clashing and magic zinging through the air, the soft rustling of beach grass swaying against rocks as a soft, calm salt-laden wind, fell on deaf ears. When the massacre was finally over, leaving the Winters with nary a member left, the only thing that registered was Hawke’s voice.

“I’m sorry about your friend.” The implications of the word ‘friend’ were clear, but that wasn’t what he focused on. Staring at the bodies littering what had once been such a sacred place for him, Ashaad’s words rang out in his head.

“ _Kaarkahl is a festering disease._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Well… There we have it, I suppose. This was more fun than it should have been to write… It was meant to be a drabble, and ended up over two pages. Whoops. 
> 
> Translastions:   
> Kaarkahl - Kirkwall  
> Kadan - My heart  
> Asit tal-eb. Ataash varin kata. - The way things are meant to be. In the end lies glory.


End file.
